When C was Little L’s age, 2 1/4, I was in the hospital having Little L. What followed was a long blurry year (heck, a long blurry 18 months), where I didn’t sleep, worked full time, dealt with two kids with asthma, and barely made it through every day. It’s hardly surprising that I barely remember anything that went on during that time.
And really, it’s a shame, because not only did I miss my baby’s first year (Seriously, I see pictures of her and I wonder who the cute baby belongs to.), but I also missed C’s twos. Poof! No memories. One minute she’s a cute 2-year-old toddler with a lisp, next minute she’s an articulate three-year-old, telling the world that three-year-olds don’t wear diapers.
Now that Little L is entering this interesting age I’m all eyes and ears. I’m making up for lost time, taking it all in, trying to imagine C going through the same growth. Loving seeing Little L go through it. It’s a fascinating age.
She switches between being the most delightful, funny, little girl to the most unbelievably difficult, pig headed, little monster in split second increments. One second we want to smother her in kisses and the next we’re looking to sell her to passing gypsies.
Her vocabulary is exploding, as are her language skills. She asks for snacks with sweet, polite, complete sentences. She sits at the dining room table and asks us all how we are or how our day went. She “reads” books to herself and her dolls. And yet, she doesn’t quite understand wait time. So when she wants something, she repeats her request again and again without giving us time to react. By the third iteration (about 30 seconds after the first) she’s already escalated to wails. She’s also incapable of articulating why she’s upset in the evening as she cries in her crib. Oh, wait. She does articulate it. She says “I cwying.” Very, very helpful.
She’s super cuddly and sweet. She loves to give hugs. She loves to touch us, pet us, pat us, cuddle us, and just generally be with us at all times. And yet she loves to explore the world around her. Even if that means that she’s got to run down every aisle at Costco or Target, laughing hysterically as I try to catch her.
She has to do everything that C does – color, glue, help in the kitchen, sing, dance, run around the house at breakneck speeds pushing rattling doll strollers. It drives C nuts, but the instant Little L goes off to do her own thing, C follows her to see what she’s doing.
Even as I’m tearing out my hair and running after her I can’t stop marveling at the little person that she’s becoming. I’m grateful that I get to appreciate this wonderful and terrible age this time around. Even though I’m increasingly sad that I don’t remember C going through it.